


Size Doesn't Matter...Or Does It?

by MademoiselleAbaisse



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: And thrilled, But he has a huge schlong, But mostly shocked, Courfeyrac is shocked, Jehan is tiny, M/M, My first shot at Canon Verse, Size Kink, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:57:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MademoiselleAbaisse/pseuds/MademoiselleAbaisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for this prompt on the kink meme:</p><p>"Jehan is super-tiny. He's barely 5'5'', he has to buy women's sneakers because he has such little feet, and he's so thin, he looks as though the wind might blow him away.</p><p>But he has a MASSIVE penis. That's it that's the prompt.</p><p>Bonus points if he and Courfeyrac get together, and Courf is absolutely speechless the first time he sees it, because "HOLY SHIT, IS THAT THING A SIXTH OF YOUR BODY MASS?!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Size Doesn't Matter...Or Does It?

**Author's Note:**

> I needed some Jehan in my life tonight. So, here you are. Jehan, Courfeyrac, and a REALLY big penis.

Courfeyrac loved absolutely everything about Jehan. He loved the freckles that dusted his face. He loved his long waves of auburn hair. He loved his full, pink lips, and his sloping, slender shoulders. He loved his long, lithe limbs, his slim torso, and the perfect curve of his petite backside. Courfeyrac loved the way that, when he embraced Jehan, his chin could rest comfortably atop the poet’s head, and he loved the delicate feel of him in his arms. As if, should he hold him too tightly, Jehan might break in half with a wisp of dust. Courfeyrac had long admired the little poet, but it had only become known recently that his affections were returned. 

They had been sharing each other’s company romantically for weeks now, but they had not yet shared a bed, which was unusual for Courfeyrac, to say the least. He was used to jumping into bed with no further preamble, and without so much as a “goodbye” the next morning. But with Jehan, it was different. With Jehan, it was worth waiting a week or two. Or three. Or four. (Not that Courfeyrac was counting.) Because somehow, to him, Jehan was much more important than simple physical gratification. He had FEELINGS for the darling little wisp of a man, that much was certain. But to what extent those feelings went, he was unsure. So, one night, as they departed arm in arm from the Musain, it came as a most pleasant surprise when Jehan leaned up to whisper in his ear, “I would have you tonight.” 

Courfeyrac’s head began to spin, at the same time that his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. “Are…are you SURE?”

The tiny poet nodded, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “I am absolutely positive.”

Courfeyrac felt a shudder travel rapidly down his spine as Jehan took a hold of his hand, dainty fingers interlacing with thick, rough ones. His head was swimming. ‘I would have you tonight’, he had said. Courfeyrac had never been had, in all his encounters with either of the sexes. And even now, the idea sent white-hot flumes of desire down his spine, burying themselves deep in his gut. 

They couldn’t get back to Jehan’s apartments fast enough.

 

\--

 

They had barely gotten inside the door when Jehan had him pinned against the wall, reaching around him to twist the bolt, so they would not be disturbed. Courfeyrac found himself being half-dragged and half coerced into the bedroom, nimble fingers working at the buttons of his waistcoat, and pushing it back off his shoulders. His shirtsleeves were next, and he stood barechested before his lover, feeling self-conscious for the first time. “This is hardly fair,” he teased, his eyes appraising Jehan. “Here I am, in naught but my trousers, and here’s you, fully clothed.”

Jehan raised an eyebrow. “You find quarrel with my state of undress, or rather, lack thereof?”

“You’re far too overdressed for the occasion, if you ask me.”

“Well, I’m never one to be dressed inappropriately for an occasion. Allow me to alleviate the situation,” Jehan smirked, slowly removing his own waistcoat as Courfeyrac watched, his mouth dry, and his trousers suddenly too tight. 

The tiny poet removed his shirtsleeves next, untying the ribbon that held back the tendrils of auburn hair, letting them rest upon the gentle curve of his shoulders. He glanced up at Courfeyrac, blushing when he saw the unmistakable tent that had pitched itself in his lover’s lap. Courf blushed a shade of pink to match, and moved to cover himself, to shift himself, anything- but Jehan stopped him. “No,” he said softly. “There is no need for shame, mon cher. For I am in a similar predicament myself,” 

Courfeyrac barely had time to perceive his little poet’s words, before the redhead had his trousers around his knees, letting his arousal spring free, and- “Jesus CHRIST!” Courfeyrac gasped. This time, he was certain that his heart must have stopped. 

For though Jehan Prouvaire was barely a wisp of a thing, he possessed an endowment large enough to shock even the most experienced of grisettes. His straining cock curved up towards his stomach and well past his navel, impossibly long, impossibly wide. Courfeyrac couldn’t help but wonder how he wasn’t inclined to lean forward from the weight of it, when it was as engorged and flushed as it was now. “Jehan,” he whispered, with such force that his gentle voice became a hiss. “You’re…you’re…oh my GOD….” If his trousers had been uncomfortably tight before, now they were unbearable. It seemed that there was no blood left in his brain, as it had all recently vacated to occupy southern property. But even painfully erect, he was no comparison for Jehan. “What’s the matter?” the poet cooed softly. “You seem so fearful of it. I can’t imagine why, you’ve got one of your own.”  
Courfeyrac gaped. “But not like…not like THAT! I’m nowhere near the size of you. I could never hope to-“ he ran out of breath as he spoke, his cheeks becoming increasingly flushed. “How is that even going to fit inside of me?! That must be at least a sixth of your total body mass!”

Jehan giggled, swaying his hips seductively near Courfeyrac’s own. “Don’t you want to touch it?” he purred in his ear. “Don’t you want to know what it feels like to have your fist wrapped around it? Don’t you want to feel the weight of it?”

Courf practically whimpered at that, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Jehan, whose beautiful head tipped back as he gasped from the sensation.  
“It’s just…it’s so…huge,” Courfeyrac murmured in awe, sliding his hand over the length of it. “And you’re so…you’re so…”

“Tiny? I know,” Jehan beamed. “Not all of me is so tiny, is it, mon Amour. Now every time you refer to me as your ‘Little Poet’, (which is absolutely darling, by the way,) all you will be able to think of is the one part of me that isn’t.” and with that, his lips were upon Courfeyrac’s, and he was pushing up into the other man’s hand.


End file.
